Each character following his own mirror.

"When was the last time you saw Harry?" The disturbing question echoed in the room, interrupting the silence that resembled the stillness that precedes the storm. The brothers, Raymond and Harry, were sitting at the breakfast table, each with their own thoughts. Harry, the blue -eyed brother and disheveled hair, looked up from his cup of coffee, the vaporous image of his brother reflected in the empty half cup.

"What are you talking about?" Harry replied, his soft and serene tone. "Are you not talking about the Harry who disappeared last summer?"

Raymond, with brown eyes and mourning mustache, sighed deeply. "Yes, Harry. That Harry. The one who was supposed to be my twin. The one who shared my life and my soul. The one who disappeared without a trace and now, suddenly, he reappears."

A strange silence seized the environment, filling the stay with a palpable tension. The wall clocks, with their hands that seemed paralyzed, observed the scene without emitting any sound. Life on the farm stopped for a moment, and Harry's metal spoon stopped on his journey to his mouth, vibrating gently.

"Why do you bring that now?" Harry continued, his frown. "Have you had any vision? Something that makes me believe that I am not crazy?"

Raymond scratched his beard, his face reddened with tension. "No, I haven't had visions. But I feel there is ... something that doesn't fit. Something I can't explain. Memories that are not mine, voices I can't ignore."

Outside, the birds ceased their song, the breeze stopped, and the sky was dyed with a leading gray tone. Life in the village was now distorted, through a mirror fogged by morning moisture. It was the beginning of an enigma that would enter the deep roots of reality they thought they knew. "But, if it is true, if my twin brother has returned ... then who am I?" Harry was questioned, his eyes filled with anguish.

Raymond stared at him, with an enigmatic smile. "That's what we have to find out."

In the basement of the farm, they discovered a mirror that reflected a parallel universe. Something that seemed out of William James Sidis's imagination, the genius they talked about in knives through the village. There, the fourth dimension of elliptical geometry crossed with the gloomy stories of the Grimm brothers, creating a disconcerting landscape that challenged the laws of logic. The characters in real life merge with the delusions of literature, giving life to a burlesque nightmare.

The doors of reality opened in par, revealing the existence of alternate worlds inhabited by Harry's twins, each with their own personality and tragic destiny. In each reflection, in each mirror, Harry's spectral figure watched them, his eyes shining with a dark glow. The brothers, bewildered, entered the search for the truth behind the disappearance of the true Harry, walking along paths that twisted and bifurcied in each step, in a maze of mirrors that made them doubt their own identity.

In the distance, they heard the echo of sinister laughs that seemed to come from the minds of the famous criminals who now formed their own village. Jack's crimes The stripper, Sherlock Holmes ingenuity and the madness of El Joker exchanged in a macabre dance of shadows and reflexes. Every face they saw was a piece of the puzzle, each reflection a track in this mystery that was getting entangled as they advanced.

While the storm approached, the sky became more and darker, and the earth trembled with the rage of the silenced voices. Harry, caught in the spiral of doubt, faced the possibility that the life that his soul was not in, that his soul was shared with delusional beings, felt more and more alone. His reflection moved from one mirror to another, and the image he saw was distorted, showing childhood faces that he did not remember, memories that did not belong to him, worlds that did not exist.

But fear became determination. Harry was not going to allow the shadow of his twin to consume it. He decided to face reality, or at least, the reality that was presented to him. Gathering the pieces of the puzzle, he entered the dimension that Rousseau spoke, the purity of life without the bonds of society. There, in the enchanted forest of primitive life, I would find the answer he was looking for.

With each step, life became increasingly absurd, the sounds faded in the breeze, the shadows became their own life. Harry, now accompanied by the strange delegation of Doppelgängers literary, undertook a trip that challenged reason, guided by the light that leaked through the leaves, the wet earth that moved under his feet, and the whisper of life that escaped from the earth.

The mirror broke into pieces, and reality vanished, giving way to chaos of reflexes and shadows that moved and tangled up in a demonic dance.

"It's you, Harry?" The figure spoke to him, his voice echoing in his mind. "Is it that you are looking for?"

Raymond, who accompanied him on his trip, looked around disoriented. "What are you seeing, Harry?"

But Harry couldn't answer. He was caught in the network of his own existence, struggling to distinguish the reality of illusion. Suddenly, the figure approached, and Harry could see that it was not a broken mirror, but the life reflected in a thousand pieces, each with a different destiny. "How can I know who I am?" Harry shouted, desperate. "How can I know if I'm, if I'm?"

The figure laughed, a laugh that was both everyone's and anyone else. "Life is a mirror that breaks at every moment. Your identity, Harry, is the one you choose."

With the storm roaring around him, Harry turned around. In the distance, the farm of his childhood rose, lonely and desolate. His parents, his brothers, all the characters of the stories they told him, stirred in the window, trying to communicate with him. But I didn't listen to them anymore. He had made a decision.

He undertook the way back, accompanied by the shadow that now knew it was his own. At every step, the earth moved under his feet, and the shadows twisted in grotesque forms, dancing to the rhythm of his doubts. The gray sky opened, and the rain began to fall, wetting the earth, cleaning the mirror of life that was curled in his soul.

Upon entering the farm, life seemed to continue without him. His uncles, his cousins, all discussed heatedly, his voices creating chaos that resonated in the room. Harry stopped, watching the scene. Life, madness, reality, everything melted into a whirlwind of absurd.

"How can you doubt?" The shadow whispered to his ear. "You are the life you have lived, the sum of all your fears and your dreams."

And Harry knew it was true. That life was not a mirror that broke, but a mirror that was constantly formed with every decision he made. That the spectral figure he feared was his own shadow, his own doubt. And that the key to facing the mystery of his twin, his identity, lay in his ability to accept the complexity of existence.

With a sigh, he joined the conversation, listening to the voices of the people around him. The discussions stopped, and everyone looked at him, expectant. "What is Harry's opinion?" He asked one of his uncles.

And Harry, with an enigmatic smile, replied: "My opinion is that life is too rare, too beautiful, to be understood in the light of logic. You have to get carried away by imagination, by madness, by mystery. That is what I will do."

And with that, life on the farm continued, each character following his own mirror, each living his own life, each fighting against his own shadow. And the Earth, the Earth that gave life and the removed.

By Carlos del Puente relatos